


this beautiful day (while my world's crashing down)

by viceandvirtue



Series: prompt collection [10]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Viktor is head over freaking heels, no beta we typo and die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceandvirtue/pseuds/viceandvirtue
Summary: Viktor swears he caught every red light in Paris.





	this beautiful day (while my world's crashing down)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a caffeine rush and this is what came out. Apparently, this is my contribution to the Victuuri ship. I don't even know anymore. The prompt for day two was 'Red Light' so this happened.

Viktor was _late_. And not just twenty minutes late – that was bad enough, but it had happened before. No, an _hour and a half_ late. Yakov was going to _kill_ him. And he’d forgotten to grab his phone from the hotel nightstand as he’d rushed out the door so now Yakov couldn’t even yell at him properly. He whipped open the door to the Opéra Bastille where they’re supposed to meet Lilia to talk about his free skate. It was supposed to be something new for him - as he’d never done much ballet save for a few basic stretches - but now he’s _late_ and if there’s anyone who hates tardiness more than Yakov it’s _Lilia_.

But Lilia’s attention – and therefore her _ire_ isn’t on him. Viktor’s just about to start begging for Lilia’s forgiveness when someone on stage captures his attention. It’s a young man around his age, with dark hair and distinctly asiatic features – Japanese, maybe? He’s dressed only in a pair of black tights and black pointe shoes, leaving his chest for Viktor’s eyes to stare at. He’s doing a pirouette with his left leg up by his head, his hands holding the limb in place as he comes around for another turn. Lilia is looking on, expression severe and scrutinizing, but ultimately pleased. Viktor lets out a strangled whimper, causing Lilia’s head to whip around to him and her eyes narrow dangerously.

When the sharp words he’s expecting don’t come, he chances a peek at Lilia only to see her sigh before turning back to the danseur on stage. “Yuuri! Tu peux arrêter,” she calls, stepping forward. The danseur lets himself spin a few more times, each time slower than the last, as he brings his leg down. The young man takes a few long steps forward before lowering himself to the stage floor, long legs dangling over the edge.

Viktor coughs to hide his groan. The man was unfairly attractive, now that he got a good look at him and it wasn’t fair that Viktor’s French is just barely enough to let him order food on his own at restaurants. (It certainly wasn’t good enough to hold a conversation with the _very_ attractive danseur in front of him.) Even _Mila’s_ French is better than his.

When he looks up again, Lilia is gone. Which means he’s alone with the man he’s been staring at for the past five minutes. _Oh god. Viktor is going to die_. Rallying his courage – a poor pitiful creature he hardly pays attention to – he walks forward and plasters the smile he uses for the press on his face.

Up close, the young man – Yuuri, he thinks Lilia called him – is even more handsome. He looks like a _god_ and Viktor is more than ready to get down on his knees and pray if it gets him even a fraction of this man’s time. “ _Bonjour_ ,” he says, and it’s awkward, his accent making the rough pronunciation even worse. He barely holds back his wince because surely now this handsome young god isn’t going to want to -

“You can just say hi,” Yuuri says, his tone light and teasing as his eyes meet Viktor’s. Yuuri’s eyes are a deep, rich chocolate and Viktor could lose himself in those eyes.

Viktor shifts his weight averting his gaze as he nods, embarrassed that he didn’t guess that the man could speak English. “I’m Viktor,” he says in an attempt to start the conversation over, thrusting his hand out in front of him.

“Yuuri,” he says, taking Viktor’s hand and shaking it lightly before letting it go, angling a glance over his shoulder. “Madame Baranovskaya is going to find you a pair of slippers, I think. Once she’s back, we can get started.”

He starts unlacing his pointe shoes and Viktor almost cries at the state of Yuuri’s feet. They’re bleeding and calloused and bruised on the toes and he reaches forward without thinking. “Your feet! How do you walk?! How do you do anything?!”

And Yuuri – Yuuri _laughs_ , and if Viktor wasn’t in love already, he most certainly is now. “You get used to it,” he says as he reaches for bandages. “They hurt a little bit, but I’ve been dancing _en pointe_ for years now. I hardly even feel it anymore.”

Viktor…Viktor doesn’t have anything to say to that but he’s content to let it go. Then Yuuri speaks up and Viktor wants to die all over again.

“So why were you late? Madame Baranovskaya was ready to tear into you earlier.”

Viktor may be a world champion ice-skater and a media darling, but in the face of Lilia Baranovskaya’s wrath, he’s a _coward_. He’s not afraid to admit it either. Crossing his arms in front of his chest like it will ward off his embarrassment, he admits, “I made the mistake of driving here, and I swear I caught every red light in the city of Paris.”

When the derisive snort he’s expecting – because that’s the reaction he would get from most people he knows – he looks at Yuuri, only to find the raven nodding in understanding. “That happened to the prima ballerina for _Cinderella_ last week. You’re not the only person who’s ever been late to practice,” he shares conspiratorially.

Viktor can’t help but laugh. “Really?” he asks. “How did that happen?”

And Yuuri is such a joy to talk to. They pass the time talking until Lilia comes back and even after practice – in between Viktor trying to not to wince at the soreness in his arches and admiring how graceful Yuuri is - they make plans for coffee and trade numbers, agreeing wholeheartedly that they need to meet up again.

Viktor has never been more happy to be late to anything in his life.


End file.
